


What I Need (I'll Take)

by MoMoMomma



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Compliant, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Relationship, M/M, Mating Bond, Non-Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16518476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: There is a plot in Eden's Gate. Rook is just a pawn in the game--though the stakes have nerve been quite so high before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [9shadowcat9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9shadowcat9/gifts).



> REMINDER! Always, always put your own mental health above enjoyment of fiction! This fic contains: rape, forced pregnancy, forced mating. It's a whole bunch of very sensitive content and if ANY of that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

It starts off as a headache. So negligible, so common, that Rook doesn’t pay it any mind. He’s been in this cage for god knows how long now, starved and dehydrated, of _course_ he’s going to get a headache. If not from lack of food or water then from exhaustion, sleep not coming easy when Jacob’s men and wolves are wandering around. 

Hell, it could just be from the scent overload. Blood and dirt and filth so deep in his nose Rook finds himself tucking his shirt over his face on occasions where he’s left alone, trying to find comfort in his own scent. There aren’t even any Omegas around--which is, admittedly, a nice change from the Valley and the Henbane where the pheromones are so thick Rook occasionally found himself choking on them. But the lack of sweet scents, calming and settling, is only serving to make him more miserable.

Next comes an ache in his stomach. In his thighs. Like he’d been raked by Cheeseburger sized claws. It _hurts_ but it’s not anything more painful than his day-to-day. Rook finds himself, still, stretching out onto his back on the cage, boots propped on the far bars to try and get some relief. He scrubs his knuckles harshly up and down his thighs a few times, like he could massage some of the tension out, but stops the second he realizes the touch is making him hard.

How the fuck his cock even still works when it seems like his brain doesn’t is a mystery he’ll never understand. 

It’s not until Pratt comes near his cage, shaky, eyes darting around, fingers curling around the bars that Rook understands. Pratt’s scent is nearly gone, buried under old pain and dried blood, but it’s still there. Omega saccharine, distracting and delicious even as it goes sour with fear.

“No,” he’s frantic, sliding to his knees, close enough that Rook curls towards the back because everything is telling him to take, grab, mount. “No, no, no. You have to stop, Rook. You _can’t_.”

He can’t? He sure as hell can, his body seems determined to prove that. In truth, Rook’s been wondering how long it would take. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of suppressants lately, everything controlled by the cult.

And clearly, they don’t seem to think they’re important, given how strongly John and Faith smell when Rook’s close enough to scent them. More importantly, it’s just another weapon in their arsenal, just another way to gain control.

The whole damn reason Rook’s even _in_ the Whitetails is because he was less afraid of Jacob’s trials than what he’d do if he went into rut around one of the other Seed siblings. At least Jacob, Alpha Jacob who smells like animals and gun oil and something else he can never quite place, couldn’t use this against him like they could.

“ _Rook!_ ” Pratt’s palm connects hard with the metal, banging too loud in the suspicious quiet of the courtyard. “You have to fucking stop it. You have no idea what he’ll do, he’s been _waiting_ \--”

“I think that’s enough, Peaches.”

Pratt yelps when he’s pulled back by a hand fisted behind him, yanked to his feet and pushed aside. Jacob’s there then, in his place, crouched in front of the door and looking at Rook like he’s some experiment that’s made progress.

“Took you long enough.” Jacob snorts. “Do you know how long it usually takes to starve the suppressants out of someone? Days, _weeks_ at most. You’re one difficult Alpha, Deputy.”

“I like making your life hell.” Rook snaps, or at least tries to.

Rut’s settling in now, like it was just waiting for him to acknowledge what it was before it sucker punched him. Rook can feel the familiar tingle in his lower back, all coiled tension in his hips, fingers clawing into the dirt at his sides. His brain is sending some fucked up signals, telling him to grab and mate and pounce and the only Omega within distance is Pratt and Rook would die before he’d add onto the trauma already there. 

“What’s gonna happen if I let you out of this cage, hm?” Jacob taps a finger against the padlock, banging it obnoxiously against the metal bars. “Peaches is right here, isn’t he? Bet he’s one hell of a temptation. And this has gotta be your first rut in...what? A decade or so? You must be _starving_ for it.”

“Don’t.” It’s an order even though Rook doesn’t mean it to be, desperate and pushing towards Jacob even knowing it won’t work on another Alpha. “Jacob, don’t. I don’t want to-- _please_.”

It burns to have to ask Jacob Seed for something. To have to beg. But Rook feels out of control already and there’s no way if that cage door comes open he’s not going to do something he’ll regret. Ruts aren’t this bad normally, Rook went through the early stages of a few back in high school surrounded by his Omega classmates and didn’t think a thing of it.

But Jacob’s right. This is his first rut in years upon years and it’s worse than it’s ever been before. Makes him vicious, lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl, to the point where his brain is telling him to submit to _Jacob_ , of all people. Probably rationalizing, back to primal instincts, appealing to the person with the most power, the one who holds all the keys. 

“Right.” Jacob sucks his teeth, tips his head to consider him. “Tell you what, Deputy, I’m feeling nice today. I’m going to have you removed from your cage. You’re not going free, of course--but I’ll stick you in a room. Let you run through this rut without mounting anyone you’re not supposed to.”

This is a trap. This is a trap, this is a trap, _thisisatrap_.

But he’s out of options and nearly out of control. Rook doesn’t see any other good chance for getting out of the cage that doesn’t end in him doing some serious damage. And out of the cage, even locked somewhere else in this hellhole, means a step closer to freedom. Might mean fewer guards, fewer people watching his every move.

“Thank you.” He breathes, Jacob nodding shortly, something close to a smile on his mouth before he pushes to his feet and whistles.

Pratt is shaking when the guards pull the door open, heft Rook to his feet, two on either side and one with a gun leveled at his head. Rook tries to growl something soothing at him, try and assure him he’s not going to jump him even though everything in his body is clamoring for just that. 

Jacob doesn’t allow it though, steps in close, grips his chin so tightly it makes tears spring to Rook’s eyes.

“You gonna behave, Deputy? Or am I going to have to knock you out?”

“I’ll be good.” Rook squeezes his eyes shut, hates submitting especially right now but can’t risk Jacob turning him loose for more carnage. “I promise.”

Strangely, which speaks to how much this rut is affecting him, the words make something in his chest go loose. Makes his eyes focus, when they open, on Jacob’s pleased little grin. He purrs without thinking, cuts it off with a rough clear of his throat, and swears he hears Jacob _laugh_ before he lets go and turns his attention to his men. 

“Take him to the room. I’ll be up shortly.”

Wonderful. An audience for his humiliation. Rook should’ve known better than to think Jacob would be so kind as to let this run its course without further embarrassing him. But it’s still a room away from the cage and he forces himself compliant as the guards march him into the Veteran’s Center proper. 

He can’t catch much in the way of a view, head tipped down to watch his feet, try to avoid tripping. They don’t quite feel like they’re connected to his body anymore, everything numb save for the thrumming need along his spine and over his hips. Rook should be using this opportunity to look for weak points in the guard, windows he could smash without drawing too much attention. Escape routes.

All he can do, instead, is let himself be led along. Shoved into a room. He fights a bit when he sees the restraints on the corners of the bed, snarling and trying to back away, but it takes one gun barrel pressed to his temple to make him stop. He doesn’t want to be tied down but he sure as fuck doesn’t want to die either. 

He has no illusions that Jacob’s men wouldn’t kill him, with or without his orders to do so. He’s killed enough of their brethren every single one of them probably has a vendetta. 

Rook allows it mostly because he has no other choice. What he fights against then is the hands that pull at his clothes. He snaps and snarls, yanking against the hold when hands catch his belt, pry it open.

“Get the fuck off of me.”

“Jacob’s orders.” One of them says shortly, at Beta by the smell of it, and Rook can’t fucking believe he ever thought Jacob wouldn’t find every single way to make this worse.

Tied down, without any clothes on? Probably on his back by the looks of it? He’s going to fucking suffer like he never has before. Without any clothes, the chance of grinding up, taking solace in the small sensations of cloth over skin, is gone. He’s going to be humping air and maybe, _maybe_ if he manages to come untouched? He’s got to knot up into no pressure at all and it’s probably going to drive him insane.

Fucking Jacob Seed. He’s seriously starting to reconsider going back to the Valley. John might be an annoying little fuck who bothers him constantly and pushes his scent around like he wants Rook to mount him then and there, but at least he doesn’t pull shit like this.

The hands are, at least, impersonal as they strip him and muscle him onto the bed. No unnecessary touching, only brushing against him to secure the straps--which are, naturally, in great condition and unlikely to rip no matter how hard he struggles.

God fucking damnit. 

It’s too quiet when the guards file out, leaving Rook alone with his stiff cock and his heartbeat pounding in his veins and an ache that has no verifiable ending point. He doesn’t know how long this rut is going to last, it’s been so long he can barely remember how long a normal cycle is. Coming off suppressants and without a partner?

He’s going to be in hell for an indeterminate amount of time. 

Something sparks in the back of his mind as Rook writhes around, tries to get comfortable and test how much range of movement he has with the restraints. It’s enough to quiet him, head lifting, pulling in his breaths through his nose so deeply his chest burns. 

There’s an Omega in the building and it’s not Pratt. The scent he can smell isn’t rancid with fear, curdled with terror. It’s sharp and it’s clean and almost familiar, a memory that he can’t bring to the surface because his whole brain is devoting itself to scenting. It makes him yank against the restraints, pulling like he’s going to get any closer by ripping his wrists and ankles apart.

But he does. Or, at least, the Omega does. Which makes Rook grit his teeth on a groan. Jacob had promised him he wouldn’t be anywhere near Pratt but he wasn’t smart, didn’t make sure that promise also extended to any other Omegas. Whatever poor Omega Jacob is sending his way, probably as a test, probably under strict orders not to even get near him, is just another trial.

Another test to see how strong or weak Rook can be. And at the moment? With his head filled with nothing but primitive instincts and the desire to mate and mount until he’s sated the clawing need inside him?

He’s going to prove to be very fucking weak. 

He slams his eyes shut when he hears the door creak open. Tries to turn away, teeth grinding together so harshly his jaw aches. It’s stronger now, no walls between him and the scent, and the footsteps are heavy, coming too close.

“Stop. You can’t be near me.” He pleads, cock jerking against his belly and leaving a tacky line of pre-come. “I’m not--I don’t care what Jacob ordered you to do. I don’t want this.”

“The unfortunate thing is,” Jacob murmurs, reaching down and gripping his chin again, turning Rook’s gobsmacked expression towards him. “You don’t really get a choice in it.”

It’s Jacob. The Omega who smells like pine and shampoo and fresh water, is _Jacob_. That was the spark of something familiar, the scent buried under animals and filth. Jacob’s an Omega and he’s here right now and he’s just wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans and that same damn jacket and Rook is so fucked it steals the breath from his chest. 

“This can’t be happening.” He murmurs mindlessly as Jacob gives him a grin, shakes him firmly before letting go. “You’re not--You’re an Alpha. John and Faith are...but you’re not. You’re _not_.”

“The funny thing is, about scents, they’re easy to manipulate. Just like brains are, once you learn the science behind it all.” Jacob explains, straightening and idly stripping out of his jacket. “Did you know the police started using dogs around the same time they started hiring Omegas? They waved it away, explained that it was for scenting drugs and bombs. But anyone in the military knows the truth. We were using dogs to hide Omega’s scents on the battlefield long before the idea came home.”

The Judges. The reason Jacob keeps them in pens outside with the prisoners. The reason there’s never one far from his side. 

“You’re a fucking Omega.”

“It has a brain.” Jacob hums, pleased, that same damn smile lingering on his lips as he works his jeans down his thighs. “I am. I’m disappointed, Rook. I thought you’d have figured it out by now. Come on; Joseph and John are both Omegas but somehow it skips a gene in me? What are the odds on that?”

“You’ve never--No one’s ever even _hinted_ \--”

Because someone would. Even cultists aren’t immune to gossip. Rook would have heard it through the grapevine, through the Whitetails at the very least. They know where Jacob takes his prisoners for brainwashing, Dutch has lines and lines connecting Jacob to half a dozen plots around the county, and everyone misses _this?!_

“I don’t make a habit of letting people discover it. I needed to keep it a secret, was _ordered_ to keep it a secret.” Jacob slips over the top of him, knees on either side of his hips, and Rook goes deathly still to avoid brushing up against him. To avoid lifting his hips into miles of scarred but bare skin. “You know what that’s like, right? Following orders, waiting for the right moment? You’re not a hero, but you’re a damn good soldier. And more, if Joseph is right.”

“W-what do you mean?”

It’s getting more difficult to keep himself still. Rook doesn’t want this, doesn’t want Jacob anywhere near him, wants to reverse time and go back to the Henbane. But Jacob’s smoothing hands over his stomach, making the muscles jump, and the touch is scrambling his resolve even as it churns his gut. 

“See, that strict adherence to the bible? It doesn’t stop there. And Joseph thinks everything is coming full circle once more. And the only thing that kept the world from falling into chaos before...was a child. And Joseph thinks that might save everything once again. Pull it all back from the brink.”

“Jesus,” Rook breathes, wincing when Jacob snorts. 

“Exactly. John and Faith aren’t strong enough, he knows that. Might hurt themselves, might hurt the baby. But me? I’m the strongest he’s got.”

“I’m not knocking you up.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” Jacob wraps a hand around his cock, seems to delight in the ragged cry it drags from Rook’s throat and the way his hips lift instinctively. “It’s cute how you still think you have a choice.”

“Don’t do this, Jacob.” It’s a last-ditch plea, Rook shoving an order forth like he has any beliefs it’ll work when Jacob’s so dominant he might as well be an Alpha whose genetics made a wrong turn. 

He almost thinks it makes a difference. Jacob’s face twitches, brows pulling down low, lips curling away from his teeth. But it’s there and gone in a flash and Jacob’s sliding his hand up, pleasure crawling insidious up Rook’s spine because he’s too far gone in the rut to ignore it. 

“Might as well lay back and think of whatever you like. This is what is to be and neither you nor I have the power to stop it.”

Jacob’s tight when he rises to his knees, shifts his weight forwards and settles back down on Rook’s cock. Tight like he never does this, slicked up but nowhere near loose enough to take his cock without force. The restraints bite into Rook’s wrist as he tries to instinctively reach down, shove Jacob away and off. It hurts but nothing hurts as bad as the screaming in what’s left in his rational brain. 

The part that’s screeching “no” almost as loudly as the Alpha hindbrain is purring it’s delight at being sated. Rook twists, tries to buck him off, and only succeeds in thrusting so deep into Jacob’s tight hole it makes him cross-eyed. Jacob grunts, flattens a palm on his chest, eyes glittering in the low light. 

“Stop fighting it.”

“Fuck off.” Rook snarls, yanking on the restraints until he feels the skin underneath give and the trickle of blood over his skin. “Get away from me!”

Jacob snarls, something almost Alpha in the intensity of it, and reaches down to the side of the bed, out of sight. The music box is placed on his chest, gently laid there, and everything in Rook goes still. His hips stop wiggling, his arms and legs go limp, eyes shuttering to half-mast. If it was possible this deep in the rut, when everything in him is telling him to fuck the Omega on his cock full of come, he’d be going soft just by seeing it. 

“You can behave...or I can make it so much worse.” One finger taps the lid as Jacob rolls his hips, sinking Rook’s cock balls deep before powerful thighs lift him off it in a slick slide. “You’ve got your wits about you, even in rut. Do you really want to lose even that?”

He doesn’t. This is his worst nightmare given flesh and blood but...Rook doesn’t want to be under the control of the music box. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses what little sense he has. 

“Just do it.” Rook monotones, tipping his head to the side and closing his eyes.

Jacob can force this, can ride Rook’s cock to the inevitable completion he can feel pulling his balls up tight. But he can’t force any of the intimacy. Can’t force Rook to actually enjoy it. He struggles a bit, especially once his hips start bucking up and Jacob lets out a little purr like he’s pleased. Spits curses and tugs on the restraints like suddenly they’ll snap and he’ll be free.

It doesn’t work. Jacob plants two hands on his chest, one digging the corners of the music box into his flesh and one splayed over his heart. For being as tight as he was, for hiding being an Omega, he’s certainly not sloppy about it. All controlled rises and harsh falls, fucking Rook’s cock so deep it scrambles his brains, has him groaning out between clenched teeth. It takes him to the edge too fast, feels like it’s burning himself up from the inside out. 

He knots up so fast it seems to even shock Jacob. Stops him midway from rising back up once more, nails scraping over his chest as there’s a soft sounding moan. Rook shakes his way through it, feels Jacob work his cock until he’s locking down around it. It’s not necessary, an Omega doesn’t have to come to get knocked up, but clearly, Jacob doesn’t intend to let this be a clinical experience. 

That becomes more clear as Rook loses himself to the rut. Jacob stays close, never going farther than the small desk in the corner. Every time he groans, shifts in place, cock thickening between his thighs, Jacob’s back. Slipping back into place on his hips and rumbling faux placations as he sinks back down on Rook’s cock. 

Rook’s barely aware of the hours going by, lost in the heat of Jacob’s body, the tight clench around his knot. He knows Jacob unlocks the restraints around his wrist at one point, lets him grip hands onto scarred hips and yank him down into each upward thrust. Later, he’ll regret not taking the chance when he had it. Not fighting back. But he’s too lost to the rut, too lost to his own need. 

Even willingly touches Jacob then. When Jacob goes to the door to answer a knock and returns with what Hope County has to offer for a snack plate. Little bites sized morsels, fruit and meat, and even cheese. Rook lets him settle on top of him, hand-feed him whatever he picks up. His teeth snap sharp but it’s not even aggression at that point, a barrier in his mind between his need to escape and his desire to stay with a willing Omega, erected there by his rut. 

It’s his downfall, in the end. Jacob’s fingers brushing his lips, Rook leaning forwards to kiss the taste of apples and oranges out of his mouth. The tray winds up discarded, clumsy hands shoving it to the floor in lieu of Rook lining his cock up to sink it inside. He can’t see past the fog, can’t figure out why Jacob’s wearing a permanent little smirk. Can’t unpeel his hands from Jacob’s wide hips, can’t stop yanking him down so hard every smack of their hips makes his back teeth ache.

Can’t stop himself when he knots up tight, when Jacob pulls him in by the nape, from clamping his teeth down hard where neck meets shoulder. He feels the bond snap into place, the mating settled deep into his blood, and everything comes back into focus like Rook just got adrenaline needled out of the Bliss.

His mouth tastes like copper when he pulls back, pulls his hands and body away, and Jacob must see the change. Pins his wrists down before Rook can do anything, numbly staring at Jacob’s mark as he grinds his way to his own orgasm. He can’t shake the taste no matter how hard he swallows, thick in the back of his throat and so permanent he wonders if it will stain his tongue blood red. 

Sinner red. 

He passes out. Goes limp just as Jacob comes across his stomach, adding to the mess that’s been gathering there since the first time he came. The world peters out into darkness and echoing repeats of his own pounding heartbeat.

He’s so far beyond fucked. 

.O.

Rook comes to shackled in place once more. He tugs just to make sure, barely bites back a hiss when the restraints rip at the already damaged skin. He can still feel the bond ringing in his chest, a new awareness that Jacob is near, that his _mate_ is close at hand. 

God, he feels like he might be sick. There’s no way, not after that much knotting, that he didn’t knock Jacob up. Play his part in Joseph’s twisted little prophecy. Jacob Seed is his mate, probably soon to be his _pregnant_ mate, if it hasn’t taken hold already. Rook thought he was in hell before but it’s so much worse now.

Now he can’t leave. Can’t destroy the Heralds and help free the county. Not if it means hurting his mate, it’ll kill him even if it won’t physically do him any harm. 

It’ll hurt their child.

“I would have preferred it be consensual.”

Rook nearly gives himself away when he realizes Joseph’s here too. Almost wants to curl in on himself, open his eyes and start screaming curses. But he stays quiet, tries to swallow back the rising panic in his veins. 

“You really think he would have come willingly? Would have done any of this willingly?”

There’s a quick set of steps, monotonous, like Jacob’s pacing. Just like one of his Judges, probably with teeth bared and ready to snap. 

“I only asked that you bare his child, Jacob. I did not ask that you be mated.”

“I wanted--” Jacob cuts himself off with a rough sound. “I lost control. Got caught up in his rut. It won’t happen again.”

“No,” Joseph draws the word out, disappointment and judgment dripping from it, “I don’t imagine it will. One can only be mated once.”

“Look, I did what you asked. Played my part. It’s done, Joseph. No going back now.”

“It complicates matters.” Joseph sighs. “A mating leaves room for a parental claim, you know this. I imagine when John finds out you’ll get quite the lecture on custody laws.”

Jacob snorts. “You really think, with or without the mating, Rook was just gonna fuck a pup into me and leave? You know him too well to think that, even for a second.”

“The child was going to be more than a savior. It was going to be a way to bring our Lamb home.”

“And it will.” Jacob sounds like he wants the conversation over with yesterday and Rook can’t help but take pleasure in the fact that he’s not on the receiving end of Joseph’s lecturing bullshit for once. “Rook’s here now. He’s not going to leave. You got your Lamb and your child.”

“And you have the mate you always wanted.”

“Don’t.” Jacob’s voice almost shakes, there’s just the barest hint of a tremor that resonates through the bond, an ache in Rook’s chest that isn’t from his own emotions. “ _Don’t_ , Joseph.”

There’s a quiet sigh and then nothing. Rook chances cracking his eyes open, sees the broad expanse of Jacob’s back and the hands on his shoulders. He’d guess, given the tip of Jacob’s head, that Joseph’s doing his normal forehead touching bullshit. 

If he comes over and tries it, Rook’s going to give himself away by headbutting the fuck out of him. See if he can break his nose or at least smash those glasses. 

“I do not judge you for taking a small bit of pleasure where you can find it, Jacob. You have denied yourself for this long. Take care that it does not lead you astray.”

“I know my place.” There’s a hollowness to Jacob’s voice that has Rook’s blood going cold, eyes slamming shut when the brothers start to pull apart. 

He hears footsteps fade, the quiet click of a door closing, and then it’s just him and Jacob again. Him and Jacob like it’s been for...god only knows how long. Rook’s sore all over, aching in his hips and thighs and lower back. Dehydrated and starving, though those are old familiar pains by now.

He should have just stayed in John’s region. In Faith’s. Should have taken his chances with Omegas that pushed but never took. 

“I know you’re awake.”

Rook stubbornly keeps his breathing steady, refuses to open his eyes. Until Jacob slaps a palm against his cheek and Rook startles, yanks back away from it all. Jacob’s expressionless when he stares down at him, eyes sharp, and Rook can’t help the snarl that bubbles up. 

“Get away from me.”

“I can, if you want. You’re not going to get far before the mating sends you to your knees and you come crawling back. But we can play your little game if you like.”

“We’re not even supposed to be mated. I heard Joseph; what was it, Jacob? So desperate for someone to love you that you forced it?”

Jacob snorts, doesn’t seem bothered by the barb. Clearly, Rook’s admonishments don’t have the same power Joseph’s did. 

“Better get all that wrath out now. Who knows what Joseph’ll do if you’re still spitting mad once the baby’s here. If you’re a threat...he might not let you anywhere near it.”

Rook goes cold. Stops struggling. It’s just as effective as that fucking music box. By choice or by force, that child, whatever child results from this...it’s his just as much as it is Jacob’s. Belongs to him and Jacob and not Joseph. 

“If he tries to stop me,” Rook bites out, flashing teeth, so fierce it even gives Jacob pause, “I’ll string his body up from the fucking chapel roof.”

Jacob grins, something so satisfied it rings through the bond. Leans down to cup a hand over his cheek, pat it condescendingly. 

“Good boy. Get some rest. The world’s changing, Deputy. You need to find your place in it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Doctor’s confirmed it this morning.”

Rook doesn’t roll over. Tries his best to ignore Jacob’s taunting voice as he closes them into the bedroom together with a snap.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Deputy.”

Once upon a time, Rook dreamed about hearing those words. Thought about how he’d tell his parents, how he’d announce it to his friends. Looked up ideas for baby showers and decorations for a nursery, wandered through the baby aisle of every clothing store he went into with a soft sort of wistfulness. 

Now it makes something in his gut go cold, churning until he’s swallowing thickly and suppressing the urge to vomit. 

He knew, of course, before Jacob even went to his appointment today. Alphas are pretty good at telling when an Omega is pregnant and mates are even more sensitive to the changes of scent.

Rook lets his eyes fall closed, shuddering slightly at the thought.

Mates. 

He hadn’t meant to. Lost in Jacob’s heat and his own rut, mindless and driven only on instinct. Rook wonders, sometimes, if things would be different if they hadn’t been mated. If Jacob would have let him go, dropped him back near the Resistance outposts and washed his hands of him.

It’s unlikely, but now he’ll never really know, will he?

“Jacob. Rook.”

Well, now he’s definitely not turning around. The door opens to Joseph’s voice, the tap of his shoes on the floor as he wanders in. He’s been around more often than Rook thinks he used to, going by the way Jacob’s shoulders stiffen when Joseph drops by unexpectedly and the thin, angry line of his mouth. There’s a moment of quiet before Joseph sighs softly, clearly expecting a reaction that Rook’s not about to fucking give him, before he addresses Jacob.

“I’ve heard the good news.”

“Keeping tabs on me, Joseph?” Jacob’s voice is bordering on belligerent, just a touch too much snap there.

“Given your previous behavior and bending of the requests you’d been given, I find it necessary, yes. If only to ensure that everything goes only to plan this time.”

At least Rook’s not the only one suffering. Jacob got his ass in big trouble by actually mating Rook, and baby brother hasn’t sounded too pleased every time he brings it up. Which is, amusingly, roughly every other conversation that the two have.

Rook supposes, in some ways, he should probably be grateful. He gets the feeling that if they hadn’t been mated, he would have been quietly disposed of the moment that Jacob’s pregnancy was out of the dangerous zone. Just like everyone else who’s gotten in the cult’s way.

But mates are linked in more ways than one, and the trauma of losing Rook, even if it didn’t outright kill Jacob, would do some serious damage to the baby. 

Which is the only reason Rook hasn’t swallowed a bullet the first second he got a chance to.

“Well, it’s fine. You don’t need to hang around. Everything’s as it should be.”

“I’m aware. But as it stands, there are...changes that need to be made.”

Rook gives up the show of ignoring the conversation, sitting up on the bed and silently watching the two. Jacob spares him a glance, arms crossed over his chest, looking vaguely like he’d swallowed a lemon before he refocuses on Joseph.

“What do you mean?”

Joseph drags his fingers along the edge of the desk that separates him from his brother, seeming to think over his words. He’s humming something under his breath--which is just creepy--and Rook pictures the two of them, in a moment of hysteric amusement, as gunslingers facing down in the old west. Just waiting for the chime of noon to quickdraw.

He’s hoping he doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.

“In your current state,” Joseph says finally, meeting Jacob’s hard stare with an even one of his own, “I think it best that you...delegate. There are tasks that can easily be given to the Chosen. We do not want any risk to present itself, not with something this important.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid.”

“No. You are the vessel for the hope of the world.” Joseph’s tone brooks no argument, nor does the cross of his arms. “That is certainly reason enough for caution.”

Rook wonders idly if they know how similar they look right now. Back’s straight, faces drawn in irritation. Brothers through and through despite the separation he knows occurred for a good chunk of their lives. 

Jacob’s scent goes sour and spicy under the gentle scent of pregnancy, to the point where Rook is rubbing at his nose to avoid a sneeze. He sees Joseph’s face contort too, no doubt hit a lot harder because he’s so close. And because Omega’s tend to be a lot more sensitive to the emotions of their kin.

Rook hopes he sneezes so hard he pulls a muscle. Or has a coronary. 

There’s a momentary sigh, like Joseph is annoyed that someone he forced into pregnancy might just be irritated with him, before his voice goes soft, cajoling.

“Jacob, see the reason in this. We can take no risks this close to fulfillment of the plans that God has commanded unto us. I do not order this to undermine you or to clip your fangs, but merely to ensure that what is to be comes to pass.”

“I’ll think about it.” Jacob grits out, Joseph inclining his head before turning to face Rook.

He resists the urge to curl back against the wall, clenching his hands into fists at his sides under Joseph’s stare. A snarl bubbles up before he can stop it and that seems enough to give Joseph pause from approaching, something considering in his eyes as he gestures towards Jacob without looking away from him.

“You will ensure he doesn’t do anything to endanger himself or your child, yes? As any proper mate would. I am trusting you, Rook.”

“Shove that trust right up your ass.” Rook snaps, shoving to his feet and all but vibrating in place with rage. “I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t hurt my kid but as far as Jacob goes? He can fucking hang for all I care.”

Rook swears he sees Jacob flinch, the curling in of his shoulders, something pained flashing across his scent for a scant breath before it’s gone. Joseph’s eyes go cold, the edges of his mouth curling up in something that is decidedly not a smile.

“I would have you remember what happens to half of a mated pair should tragedy occur. If I might make a suggestion, perhaps you should reconsider that hard line of thinking. Otherwise, you may find that your current situation is far more preferable to the agony of survival with only part of your soul remaining.”

With that, and one final meaningful stare at Jacob that Rook can’t parse the meaning of through the whitehot anger that’s burning through his veins, Joseph leaves. Quietly slipping out the door, like he didn’t just drop a literal bomb in the middle of the room and take the de-activation code with him.

“Rook--”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Rook slashes a hand through the air at Jacob and this time he sees the way Jacob recoils from it. “I don’t want to fucking hear it. You did this. To both of us. You don’t get to be upset that there’s consequences--hell, I’m fucking glad you’re finally actually getting some of the bullshit karma you’ve put into the universe dumped right on your goddamn head. So leave me the fuck alone and listen to Joseph.”

It irritates him but a part of him agrees. As much as he hates Jacob, hates this whole fucking situation, that’s still his kid. Still part of the Wylde bloodline that’s slowly growing inside Jacob’s body. Regardless of whether all the bullshit about a “savior” is real or not, Rook’s not about to be a deadbeat.

“You need to consider what happens to you if I let Joseph run the mountains.” Jacob says quietly, dangerously, and Rook scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Like my life could get any fucking worse than it already it.”

.O.

He was wrong.

Rook doesn’t actually get wind of what’s going on for a while. He knew that despite his “position” in Jacob’s region, it’s not like he was going to make a lot of friends with people who would’ve willingly put an arrow in his thigh a couple months ago. But there are a few Peggies that he gets along with well enough for some idle conversation. 

Surprisingly, some of them are pretty normal for being part of a doomsday cult. 

Rook passes his days chatting with a few when he comes across them, helping out as best he can to avoid spending time with Jacob or just hanging out in the bedroom/office day in and day out. Some of them treat him a bit like he’s a dog that no one is quite sure the temperment of, like he’s going to lose it and go for their throats at any second. But a fair few grin and wave when he approaches, greeting him by name and asking about his day. 

Slowly but surely though, that number dwindles. And Rook figures maybe it’s because the other Peggies are pressuring the ones that are being nice, telling them to stay away. 

Until he’s settled on a crate one day, watching Levi--an Omega with a blinding grin and a scent like wildflowers in the middle of spring--go over the med-kits. They’ve been chatting for about a half hour now, Rook giving little bits of advice on what to make sure they have enough of and what’s rarely necessary to pack into the kits for short journeys out into the forest. Rook takes a swig of the water bottle by his side and offers it up to Levi, who grins and downs his fair share, wiping away some sweat with the back of his wrist.

“Appreciate it.”

“Jacob works you like dogs, least I can do is help out where I can.”

“It ain’t all bad, you know?” Levi smiles, “you think it is, but I promise it ain’t.”

Rook scoffs.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Not like you got much else to go on, right?”

They share a laugh and Rook shakes his head. It’s going to be odd, if he ever goes back to being on opposite sides. He wouldn’t say that he and Levi are friends, per se, but they’re certainly not strangers anymore. And Rook isn’t quite sure that he’d be able to pull the trigger if that shining smile was on the other end of his sniper scope. 

“Levi!”

All the amusement fades at Jacob’s low bark, Levi tensing and whipping his head around to where Jacob is stalking across the yard towards them. He’s not quite showing yet, but it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Rook’s seen the small swell of his stomach after showers and before bed, when Jacob shucks his tee and exposes the broad swath of his torso. 

“Yessir?”

Jacob glares at Rook when he reaches them, Rook rolling his eyes and hopping off the crate with a wave.

“It’s been real, Levi, but I’m out. See you around.”

“Oh, but--” Levi tries to offer up the water bottle and Rook waves him off.

“Keep it. Hydrate. And make sure you pack another couple sets of gauze into that one kit.”

Rook stalks off but doesn’t go far, tucking around a cage that’s still got a tarp draped down one side. Hidden from view but close enough that he can listen in if he tries. 

“What are you doing?”

“Re-stocking the med-kits, sir. You ordered that every hunting party should have at least one, so I figured--”

“Not that. With Rook.”

“O-Oh. Well, he mentioned he used to be a medic so I figured--well, he seemed like he wanted to help and I didn’t--did I do something wrong?”

“There have been rumors.” Jacob’s voice is pure ice and Rook feels dread pool cold in his belly as the dots start to connect in his head. “Some of the others have brought them to me. I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you the Project’s views on adultery.”

“I--No! No, sir, I would never! I--I know that Rook is your mate and I would never disrespect that or--or step where I ought not be stepping!”

“See that you don’t. You’re a good soldier, Levi. I’d prefer you be one of mine, but if the rumors persist, I know Faith is looking for another few to round out her roster.”

Rook barely bites back a snarl at the threat. He’s heard whispers from Jacob’s men before, chatting about the other siblings in secret. Faith’s region is viewed as a punishment of sorts, even Jacob’s biggest and baddest terrified of being sent there and losing their mind to the Bliss. 

No fucking wonder people who once chatted with him are avoiding him like the fucking plague. Jacob’s isolating him from even having friends and Rook has to spin on his heel and stomp away before he does something stupid like climb the cage to scream that he doesn’t belong to Jacob and he’s allowed to interact with people that aren’t insane cult leaders.

He passes Pratt on the way back inside and this time the way Staci’s eyes go wide and he ducks his head as they pass makes a hell of a lot more sense. Rook had figured at first it was just disappointment in him, sadness that Rook wasn’t able to save him like he’d wanted to. Now there’s a far more insidious idea in his head.

If Jacob threatened people that he even thought Rook might be friends with, what the hell did he do to someone Rook was already friends with before the world caught fire?

The thought makes him shudder and he continues on his way with his teeth clenched so hard it makes his jaw ache. Rook’s barely thrown himself onto the mattress when the door swings open again, Jacob’s scent a rolling welcome before he even speaks.

“Not gonna spend the day avoiding me?”

“What’s the point when every time I try and make friends, you threaten them?” Rook snorts at the abrupt silence. “Yeah, I heard. I’m not a fucking idiot, Jacob. Do you really think that I’ll just default to chatting with you if I don’t have anyone else? I’d rather die.”

There’s a shuffle of papers and then Jacob says quietly.

“You might get a chance at freedom soon enough.”

“And why’s that? Joseph suddenly get some proper meds and stop being a crazy fuck?”

“Had an ultrasound today. They found two heartbeats.”

Rook sits up so fast he gets dizzy. Stares at where Jacob is trying to act nonchalant over at the desk, re-arranging folders and files that Rook is sure were already in perfect order before.

“What?” He breathes.

“Yeah. Joseph’s on his way, not sure what he’s gonna make of it all. But they were damn sure there’s two in there.”

“That’s--” He can’t really think well enough to formulate a sentence.

His mom had always teased his brother and him growing up. Said twins ran in the family. Mentioned how pleased she was when her pregnancies were only single babies and then cackled at the thought of he or King trying to raise two babies at the same time.

Rook had thought it was a joke....

Definitely doesn’t fucking feel like a joke now.

“You didn’t tell me you had an ultrasound.”

“Didn’t figure you gave a shit.”

“It’s still my kid.” Rook snaps, wincing before he amends, “my kids. I want to be at them from now on. No more surprising me with this shit.”

“Alright.”

Rook squints at the easy acquiescence, watching Jacob for any sign of subterfuge. He seems a bit pleased, scent gone warm and happy, but there’s no undertone of anything malicious. It genuinely seems like he’s fine with Rook’s demands. 

Rook’s not about to throw a party. But maybe it means something.

The exact meaning though, he’s not sure of yet.

.O.

He tries, from then on. Cautiously, always ready to back away at the first sign of being manipulated. But Rook tries his best. Joseph had been quietly considering when he’d learned about the twins, murmuring that he needed to pray and try to decipher what had changed in God’s plans. 

That had been two months ago now and Rook still hadn’t heard any annoying new proclamations. So clearly Joseph was just as thrown by it as everyone else was. 

Jacob, for his part, seems to enjoy that Rook is trying. Even if he does his best to piss Rook off at every opportunity. They’ll have a good few days where they go about their business together, side by side but not interacting save for what’s necessary. A quiet sort of existence that would be almost peaceful if not for the circumstances that put them together in the first place.

And then Jacob will do something fucking stupid and ruin it.

Like the time he’d brought Rook a tray full of food for dinner. Not what the canteen was serving but littles cuts of meat and cheese and fruits. Exactly what Rook vaguely remembers Jacob feeding him by hand during the heat that started all this.

Rook had barely made it to the bathroom in time before throwing up and had snarled at Jacob that the last thing he needed was a reminder of the bullshit that got them into this whole mess.

He hadn’t been threatening any more of the friends Rook tried to make, but it was far too late to make a difference. No one would interact with him, not even Pratt. They all treated him like he was another one of the siblings, to be respected and adored but never interacted with directly. Jacob had made mention of bringing some of his old friends to visit, which had ended with Rook swearing on the life of the twins that if Jacob brought them into this bullshit he’d help them escape and burn half the Center to the ground in the aftermath.

So that idea had been scrapped fairly quickly. 

Rook’s left wondering what every day will bring when he wakes up, what new nonsense that Jacob will pull. He wonders, sometimes, what sort of knowledge Jacob actually has on how Omegas should interact with their mates. It’s all either very clumsy or out-dated cliches that only exist in retro movies and TV. Like Jacob’s entire education on “How To Be A Proper Omega” came from worn out textbooks and a black and white screen.

Especially in times like now.

“You know that this isn’t necessary, right?” Rook stares at the ring and chain Jacob is holding in a clenched fist. “At this point, an ultrasound will show what the genders are. This is not necessary and also has literally no proof that it’s even right.”

Jacob’s brows are down low and he grunts but shoves the chain into Rook’s hands anyhow.

“Just fucking do it.”

Rook lets him push by to sprawl out on his back in the bed. He’s predictably big, his stomach stretching even the loosest shirts he owns, and Rook watches as he winces and pulls a knee up to plant his foot on the bed once he’s settled. Clearly no one ever told him that pregnant people can’t really lay on their backs. 

No one told Jacob a lot of things about pregnancy, Rook suspects. Like the fact that holding a ring over their stomach to figure out the gender is just an old wives tale. 

“Why don’t you just go and get an ultrasound?”

“Got one scheduled today. But Joseph wanted to be here for it.” Jacob grunts, shifting around. “Asked me wait. Can you fucking hurry up?”

“This is dumb.” Rook rolls his eyes but walks over anyhow, kneeling next to the bed and cautiously pushing Jacob’s shirt up until the swell of his stomach is exposed. 

He resists the urge to flatten his hand against the skin. Feel the flutters of his kids moving around inside. Rook’s done it on occasion, in the dead of night when Jacob’s asleep. He seems to sleep deeper now, no more waking up thrashing from nightmares that even made Rook hurt for him. He’s never done it when Jacob’s conscious though, and he knows Jacob is watching him closely as he keeps his touch purely professional, adjusting the shirt until Jacob’s whole stomach is exposed.

“So what’s the rumor about this? How’s it work?”

“Back and forth for a boy. In a circle for a girl.” Jacob props himself up on his elbows. “Come on. Just do it. Joseph is gonna be here any minute.”

“If he’s going to be here today, why the fuck are we doing this?” Rook complains, but obediently holds the chain by the tip, letting it dangle with the ring a scant few inches away from Jacob’s abdomen.

They both watch in vague horror as the chain begins to spin in a circle...while also shifting back and forth gently. 

“Stop moving it.”

“I’m holding it still!” Rook snaps, watching as it continues despite him shaking it out and holding it in place once more. “I told you this was bullshit!”

Jacob groans and lets his head flop back on the pillow, staring resolutely up at the ceiling. 

“Should’ve known better.”

“Do you have a preference?” Rook asks softly, watching the chain move in the same pattern over and over. 

“Just want them healthy. That’s all I give a shit about.”

“Surprised you’re not gung-ho for a son. Strength in the bloodline and all that other bullshit you spout.”

“Don’t care. Just wanna give the kids something I never had.”

Rook turns his head slowly, feeling something annoyingly soft in his chest spark at the wistful tone of Jacob’s voice. He’s not looking at Rook, still staring up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded like he’s not totally in the moment. Like he’s wading through some part of his past.

“You really care about them don’t you? Past the prophecy and all that bullshit. You...actually give a shit about these kids.”

Jacob’s head snaps up and he looks like Rook’s slapped him.

“What do you--of fucking course I care. They’re my fucking kids. You didn’t think I cared?”

“I didn’t--”

Jacob shoves him off balance, Rook tumbling back onto his ass as Jacob struggles to sit up, yanking his shirt back down over his stomach. He’s angry, face flushed and eyes glittering, scent practically punching Rook in the nose. 

“Jacob, I didn’t--”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

Shit. What the hell is he supposed to do? A part of Rook’s brain is snappishly reminding him that Jacob is the whole reason they’re in this fucking situation and his feelings don’t matter. But another part, a more primal part, is howling at the thick scent of an Omega who’s been hurt. And Jacob is hurting, Rook can scent it even if Jacob’s trying to put on an angry front. 

“Jacob?” There’s a knock and it breaks the moment--shatters it, more appropriately.

“Yeah.” Jacob scrubs a hand down his face, pushes himself to his feet with barely more than a glance at Rook. “I’m coming.”

“The Doctor’s said they were ready, if you are?”

Jacob stares at the door for a long moment, before his eyes flicker down. Rook stares up at him in a new light, trying to reconcile someone doing something because they have to and someone who seems to genuinely care.

“You can come, if you want. Said you wanted to be there. But it’s your choice.” Jacob says softly, leaving the words to hang as he starts towards the door.

Rook barely waits more than a second before he’s on Jacob’s heels, ignoring Joseph’s arched brows as the door opens to reveal them both. 

Jacob’s not the only one that cares about the kids, after all.

.O.

“I think he’s out of his fucking mind.”

Rook isn’t surprised that he catches an elbow to the ribs for his sass, but he grins nonetheless because it wasn’t aimed to hurt. To shut him up, sure, but nowhere near as hard as he’s sure Jacob’s capable of. They’re far enough in the back of the group Rook’s certain no one heard it anyhow, all the Peggies giving him a wide berth as he and Jacob listen to Joseph preaching at the front of the mass.

“--and I tell you now, my children, all of your hard work, all of our hard work, has come to fruition! We have prepared and we have made our plans and God has smiled upon His children!”

“That’s a bit different from the usual doom and gloom.” Rook mutters, earning himself another elbow.

“Fucking listen and you might learn something.” Jacob hisses.

He doesn’t want to, but he does. Mostly because Jacob isn’t going to leave until Joseph is done and Rook isn’t about to abandon Jacob. He wouldn’t say they’re close, nothing like the mates they should be, but they’ve come to an uneasy truce. The ramifications of how the kids were conceived will always divide them, always be a festering wound just waiting to go septic, but they’re trying.

Rook’s actually trying to be a good Alpha and Jacob is...clumsily trying to be a good Omega. He’s absolutely sure now that Jacob’s ideas of good Omega’s really did come from books and movies and nowhere close to reality, but it’s something.

At least he doesn’t get the urge to put a gun in his mouth every single night now. 

“The world was on the brink. You felt it, you knew it, that is why you joined the Project. And God saw all of you, saw hope in this world once more! And he has given us a gift.” Joseph bows his head and a shiver climbs down Rook’s spine at the way Jacob goes uncomfortably tense next to him. 

This...is not good.

“I thought that my brother Jacob, the strongest among us, would bear a child that would be the new shepherd once the world had turned to fire and ash. I planned for it. But God saw what we had done, saw that we have not turned our back on Him as so many have. And the plans have changed.”

Joseph gestures back towards them and Rook feels Jacob’s hand tighten in the back of his shirt as hundreds of eyes turn in their direction.

Probably for the best, he feels like fucking bolting right now.

“Jacob will not bear the next savior. Jacob will give us a new Adam and a new Eve. God has given us a chance, to create Eden as opposed to awaiting it.”

A cheer rises up, so loud Rook can’t hear the blood he knows is rushing through his ears. Jacob’s still holding him in place, but there’s a shake to his hand, a scent of something that Rook has never smelled on him before tickling the edges of his consciousness.

Nervousness. Jacob is fucking nervous. 

Joseph continues and the attention shifts away but Rook can barely focus on that. Not when he’s turning and Jacob is already grabbing for his arm, levering himself to his feet and leading him away. 

All but pulling him away. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Rook says finally when Jacob has slammed the door on the bedroom, kicking a small trash can halfway across the room. “What--now he just gets to change the stupid visions in his head to suit reality? And people just buy that shit?”

“Neither of us know if Joseph can hear God or not.”

“That’s horseshit.” Rook stabs a finger at Jacob. “You don’t think he hears him any more than I do. You’re just better at pretending.”

“Look at everyone.” Jacob waves a finger towards the window, where Rook can still hear some of the excited chatter and exuberant exclamations as Joseph continues his sermon. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? No end of the world means no preparing for it. No rushing to make sure everyone is in place when the earth falls apart beneath our feet.”

Which means no more kidnappings. No more taking from people. No more guns shoved in his face as he tries to make sure Hope County doesn’t incinerate from the inside out. 

“Jesus.” Rook sits down heavily on the bed, scrubs his hands over his face.

It’s too much to contemplate. On one hand, he’s pleased--of course he’s pleased, his chances of getting shot at randomly just dropped to an overwhelmingly normal percentage--but he’s annoyed. All this, everything Jacob did on Joseph’s orders, everything they put him through--and it was for nothing. 

Well, not for nothing. For two living souls that are already starting to change Jacob’s scent. Make him smell more like Rook. Like a mix of them both that will live on in people that exist in the world in just a couple more months. 

“We’re not naming our kids Adam and Eve.”

Jacob laughs like it’s shocked out of him, a burst as he shakes his head and relaxes from the harsh stance he’d taken across the room. He trots over, settles down next to Rook with a groan, leaning back with a hand across his stomach.

“I agree. Already had that fight with Joseph. Told him if I was gonna be the one puking my guts up for months and getting kicked in the fucking ribs, I was gonna name them.”

“Bet he was pleased.”

Jacob shrugs, a sort of “what can you do?”, that tells Rook he doesn’t really give a shit if Joseph’s pleased or not. The conversation from a month ago flashes across his mind and Rook winces at the memories. 

Times like this--it’s hard to believe he ever thought Jacob didn’t care about the kids. Once he knew, once he was told, he started seeing it everywhere. In how Jacob grumbled and bitched about being on restricted duties but never stepped a toe out of line. How he stumbled from the bathroom, pale-faced and sweating, and immediately starting re-hydrating and filling his stomach. 

Odd, how things begin to change in such a small space of time. 

Jacob makes a soft noise next to him, face contorted when Rook glances over. He’s already opening his mouth to ask if something’s wrong, if he needs to go wade through the faithful idiots to find the doctor, when there’s a shift of movement under Jacob’s shirt. His eyes drop instantly, zeroing in on the barely there wiggles under the fabric.

“Oh shit.” Rook lifts a hand before he can even think better of it, hovering over the swell. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” Jacob tips his head back, scent carefully dragged in around him until all Rook can smell is pregnant Omega and absolutely zero of where he is emotionally right now. “G’head.”

The moment his palm flattens there’s a kick that nearly makes him drag his hand back. He flexes his fingers instead, laughing a bit as he leans down. 

“Hey, both of you settle down. Don’t give your dad a hard time, yeah?”

There’s something in Jacob’s eyes when Rook glances up that he’s never seen before. Something soft. Gentle. He’d call it loving if that was something that existed between them, if he didn’t know better.

“Guess we might make it through this whole “being mates and parents” thing in one piece after all.” Rook murmurs, as Jacob tips his head back on a laugh that sounds just a little bit like a sob.

“Yeah.” He says finally, softly. “Maybe we will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a commission for 99shadowcat99, this was a really interesting way to play with canon! I hope you like it!


End file.
